


Or What You Will

by amo-amas-amat (amoama)



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Drabble Day 2018, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoama/pseuds/amo-amas-amat
Summary: Olivia isn't quite contented with the ending.





	Or What You Will

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, "maroon".

It is clear to Olivia that she has, as she suspected, been dealt the lesser hand. Indeed the dealer dealt most favourably toward her rival, Orsino, who she thought her suitor. Feste smiles; she, the fool. 

Daily, she leaves her husband in company with Antonio and wanders through Illyria’s countryside, down to the sea. Until now she never felt marooned upon this isle. Until now it was a haven, not a prison. Many men have washed up upon the shore and found welcome. None more so than Cesario, oh, Viola. The beloved beguiler is not yet unravelled in her thoughts. 

*  
Viola feeds Orsino Illyria’s home-grown grapes. She plays him tunes on the piano. Reads him poetry. But he no longer sighs as she reads. 

Orsino, she worries, has indeed fed too much on the music (and grapes and fine wine). What they need, she thinks, is a project. Something to work together towards, as with the wooing of Olivia. They are too much contented, she supposes. 

She invites her brother to stay. (He brings Antonio). Orsino rallies, briefly, over dinner, then sinks to melancholy watching Sebastian and Antonio’s fond familiarity. He looks at Viola with something like betrayal. It stings. 

*

Viola traipses down to the beach, forlorn. She remembers her confusion, her grief, on washing up on this unknown island. The sea stole everything from her and she was left to build herself anew. 

She finds Olivia there – waiting for her? 

“Oh, is it you?” Olivia asks. 

Viola nods, non-committal. They stare out at the sea.

Olivia breaks the silence, confessing, “The wonder I felt at your doubling has not diminished, but you and he are not equal in my heart. Nor for him do I compare beside Antonio.”

Viola takes her hand. “I may,” she offers, “have an idea.”


End file.
